Stars & Stripes Forever
by bayoublackjack
Summary: A collection of one shots chronicling the friendship and eventual relationship between Martha Jones, the Woman who Walked the Earth, and Steve Rogers, the Star Spangled Man with a Plan.
1. Have You Met Dr Jones?

The Battle of New York changed everything. Alien invasions were nothing new. Everyone remembered the attack on 10 Downing Street in 2006 and the invasion of the Daleks and Cybermen a year later. Even the 456 Incident, which had brought to light the worst in both aliens and humans alike, was fresh in the minds of the entire world. Nonetheless, the World Security Council was none too pleased about Nick Fury going against their wishes and S.H.I.E.L.D. was officially on notice.

Steve Rogers stood alert in the conference room at S.H.I.E.L.D. headquarters in Washington D.C. as Director Fury's second in command, Agent Maria Hill, filled him, Agent Romanoff and Agent Barton in on the repercussions of Fury's decision to intercept the nuclear missile launched at Manhattan.

"So we're being taken over?" Steve asked.

"More like invaded," Natasha retorted.

"Officially, it's a collaboration," Maria answered diplomatically.

Steve frowned. He wasn't a fan of those types of answers because they usually meant something more sinister was at work. "And unofficially?"

"Fury pissed off the WSC so they decided to bring in a ringer," Natasha replied.

"Ringer?"

"UNIT," Clint supplied. As always, Barton had kept a silent, watchful eye over the room. Steve had nearly forgotten that he was even present until he spoke.

Steve stared at him. "Which unit?"

"Not _a_ unit," Clint clarified. "_The_ UNIT."

"UNIT? Am I supposed to know what that means?" Steve asked in confusion.

"Unified Intelligence Taskforce," Maria explained. "Formerly known as the United Nations Intelligence Taskforce."

Steve shook his head. "Is that good or bad?"

"Good for the WSC, but bad for S.H.I.E.L.D.," Natasha said. "UNIT is full of hardcore military types willing and able to jump as high as the WSC asks them to."

"Such kind words," a female voice retorted from the doorway. Steve looked up and saw a middle-aged blond woman dressed in a trench coat followed closely behind by a flustered looking brunette in a scarf. "You're everything your file said and more, Agent Romanoff."

Natasha eyed the woman distrustfully, but didn't respond.

"I was told I'd be meeting with Director Fury," the woman said, glancing from face to face.

Maria straightened her spine. "Director Fury has been detained."

"I see," the blonde responded with an amused smile. "Is that code for going over someone's head?"

"Probably," Clint retorted.

"It's to be expected." The woman shrugged. "But until he succeeds in severing our ties, perhaps we should get down to the task at hand. I believe introductions are in order," she addressed the group. "Kate Stewart, Head of Scientific Research at UNIT."

"Scientific research?" Steve questioned. "I thought UNIT was military."

"Science leads," Kate replied. "At least it has since I've taken the reins."

"Are we expected to throw test tubes at the enemy?" Clint asked. "Because we already have plenty of scientists on staff."

"I'd think a S.W.O.R.D. would be more effective," Kate countered knowingly, earning a suspicious glance from Agent Hill. "Yes, we know all about Agent Brand and that _venture_ of yours," she said to Maria directly. "But if it's muscle you want…" She glanced at her assistant. "Osgood."

Osgood lifted a walkie talkie to her lips. "Greyhound Leader to Greyhound Three, move forward." No sooner than the words left her mouth, the room was filled with a group of soldiers dressed in head to toe black body armor.

"Greyhound Six," Kate addressed the group without looking back.

"Ma'am." A woman stepped forward from the crowd. She was dressed like a soldier, but there as definitely something different about her.

"Dr. Martha Jones, our chief Medical Officer," Kate introduced the woman.

Martha gave a curt nod to each of them individually, but Steve couldn't help noticing that she studied him a bit longer than the others.

"Dr. Jones here," Kate continued. "Will be administering your evaluations."

Steve's brow shot up. "Evaluations?" he questioned.

"Standard UNIT procedure," Martha chimed in. "All personnel must undergo a complete medical and psychological assessment before being granted clearance to work in the field."

Maria nodded. "Director Fury has agreed to be compliant on the basis that all records remain with S.H.I.E.L.D."

"Understood," Kate replied. "Then I'll leave you in Dr. Jones' capable hands." With that, she turned and motioned for the soldiers to move out. They filed out in an orderly fashion, just as quickly as they came in. Kate followed them silently, except for a quick reminder to her assistant to use her inhaler.

"Dr. Jones," Maria turned her attention to Martha. "You have S.H.I.E.L.D.'s full cooperation. Do you require anything else?"

Martha looked significantly more relaxed once she was alone with the four of them. "Just full access to S.H.I.E.L.D.'s medical facilities and a volunteer to go first."

"I'll send in Streiten and Goodman to acquaint you with the facility," Maria replied. "As for volunteers…"

"I volunteer," Steve said stepping forward. "I'm no stranger to medical examinations, ma'am. And as team leader, I have no problem being the first to bite the bullet."

Martha broke into a smile that was slightly disarming to Steve. "No bullet biting necessary, Captain Rogers," she joked. "There will, however, be needles."


	2. The Doctor Will See You Now

Steve sat on the table in one the examination rooms inside the Triskelion's medical facility. He was reminded of the days spent in Army recruitment offices trying to earn approval for enlistment, except this room was more sterile and the technology had changed over the last seventy years.

Despite the knowledge that the serum would mean certain clearance, he was hit with the all too familiar fear of being told that he wasn't good enough. When the door opened, he pushed his thoughts of rejection aside. Martha entered the room and Steve noticed that she had traded her armor and military gear for a pair of purple surgical scrubs and a lab coat. She looked more at home that way.

"Dr. Jones," Steve greeted her with a businesslike smile.

"Captain Rogers," Martha said his name with quiet tenderness that he wasn't used to hearing from doctors, but somehow reminded him of the gentle tones his mother used when she nursing him back to health. "You have an interesting history here," she commented as looked down at his chart.

"You mean the serum?"

"That too," Martha replied, meeting his eyes briefly. "But I was referring to your pre-serum history actually." She ran her finger over the paper. "Anemia, asthma, diabetes, color blindness, heart murmur, scoliosis, Scarlet fever, rheumatic fever, high blood pressure, angina, exposure to tuberculosis." She looked up again. "Have you suffered any symptoms after receiving the serum?"

Steve shook his head. "None to report, ma'am."

Martha nodded and made a notation on the chart. "Do you smoke?"

"Not anymore. Just the asthmatic ones before the serum," he informed her. "Haven't touched anything since then."

"Okay." Martha made another note. "Alcohol?"

"Rarely, though my body metabolizes it so fast, I doubt it has the same effect anymore," he informed her.

"No drowning your sorrows then," she joked.

Steve shook his head. "No, ma'am."

She chuckled softly and continued on. "Diet and exercise?"

"Balanced meals. Running in the morning. I try to get to the gym whenever I can."

"Are you sexually active?" Steve cleared his throat at the question and Martha looked up with a ghost of a smile. "No judgment," she assured him.

Steve knew it was part of the procedure, but it still was an intimate detail to share with a woman he had only just met. A beautiful woman at that, but she was also a doctor and her interest was purely medical in nature. He mentally chastised himself for being so uptight. "No, ma'am."

Martha made another note on his chart before setting her clipboard down and moved closer to him. "I need to check your vitals," she said as she slipped her stethoscope from around her neck.

Steve moved to remove his t-shirt and it was only after it was over his head and pulled half way down his arms that he noticed the bemused expression on her face. "Did I not have to…?

Martha quickly recovered, putting on a professional smile. "What's done is done." She reached for the blood pressure cuff and slid it into place on his left arm once his shirt was fully removed. She slipped her stethoscope into her ears and placed the head of the instrument against his arm before inflating the cuff with the pump. Steve glanced around, not really sure what to do with himself. He looked down when the hiss of air escaped the deflating cuff only to be reflated by her and then deflated completely. "118 over 70," she announced and made note of the reading.

Steve began to think about the numbers. Was that good or bad? Borderline maybe? His nerves may have affected it negatively. He needed to calm himself. "So…"

Martha draped her stethoscope around her neck again and took him by the wrist, placing fingers firmly in place to check his pulse. "Yes?" she looked at him expectantly before studying her watch.

"Have you always been British?"

The question broke her concentration. "Consistently since birth," she replied.

"No…I mean…UNIT," he clarified quickly. "Has UNIT always been British?"

"No," Martha answered with a smirk. "It has strong ties to the British government, but there are headquarters across the world." She looked at her watch again and Steve figured it wise to remain silent for the time being. "Do I make you nervous?" she asked once she released his wrist. He met her eyes and she smiled. "Your pulse is racing," she pointed out before marking his chart again.

Steve didn't answer immediately. Instead, he watched her slip her stethoscope in position once more and move in close to check his heart and lungs. "I haven't always had the best luck with these sorts of things," he confessed.

Martha paused just as she had placed the cold metal to his skin. Her smile quickly evolved from a teasing one to one of reassurance. She placed a hand on his shoulder and inclined her head towards him. It amazed Steve that one person could convey so much in such a small time frame without uttering a single word. "I doubt you have anything to worry about," she said eventually in a soothing voice. "You seem to be in peak physical condition. So just consider this a formality."

The corner of Steve's mouth twitched upward. "You're too kind, Dr. Jones."

Martha laughed softly and resumed her examination. "You say that now, but let's see if you feel the same when I start sticking you with needles."

"Never been a fan of needles," Steve admitted. "But I've survived worse."

"Undoubtedly," Martha said with a warm smile that Steve couldn't help returning. "Take a deep breath for me." Steve obediently drew in a deep breath through his mouth. "And let it out."

Steve pushed the air out in a slow steady stream as he stared ahead. He wished there had been more doctors like her before his time in the ice. Most of the military physicians came off as cold and clinical. When he was growing up, money was tight so visits to the doctor were few and far between so his mother usually relied on home remedies. But on the rare occasion that he did see a doctor, they usually seemed to only offer up a hollow sense of pity for him. Sometimes he joked that he only survived as long as he did out of defiance.

Martha was different though. He could tell that she didn't pity him. She seemed genuinely concerned in a way that Steve had only ever encountered from Dr. Erskine.

Her compassion was evident in not only her words, but through the kindness of her eyes, the gentleness of her smile, and the tenderness of her touch. To say that she had a pleasant bedside manner was an understatement. In fact, Steve was so happy to have her there to guide him through the process, that he was surprisingly disappointed when she finished her assessment.

"Is that it?" he asked as he pulled his shirt back on.

"For my part." Martha flipped through the pages of the chart making notes and checking to see that she hadn't missed anything. "A tech will be in soon to collect some samples from you. A few vials of blood so that we can do a chemistry panel and a complete blood count. A urine sample as well," she informed him. "Then another doctor will be in to complete the final stage of your physical examination."

Steve frowned. "A different doctor?"

"Yes," Martha replied with a furrowed brow. "I figured you'd be more comfortable with someone like Dr. Streiten."

"With all due respect to Dr. Streiten, if it's all the same to you, I'd prefer to continue on under your care," Steve insisted.

Martha drew in air through her teeth and fiddled with the pocket of her lab coat. "How can I put this delicately," she began before falling into a thoughtful silence while she chose her words. "While I appreciate your vote of confidence, Captain Rogers, the next portion of the assessment is specifically tailored to a _male_ subject," she explained. "As such, for the sake of modesty, you may be more _comfortable_ with a male physician."

Steve allowed Martha's words to sink in before his eyebrows shot up. "Right," he said calmly. "Dr. Streiten will be fine." Martha fought back a smile and glanced down at her shoes before meeting his eyes again. "Will I see you again?" he asked. This time her eyebrows moved up in surprise. "For my results," he added quickly.

"I can only assume that someone from your organization will give you that information," Martha answered. "But as I said before, it's mostly just a formality."

Steve clasped his hands together and nodded. He studied his hands in an attempt to mask his disappointment at the prospect of not having a chance to get better acquainted with her.

Martha hugged her clipboard to her chest. "So barring an untimely dissolution of this joint venture between our agencies, I suppose the next time we'd have an opportunity to meet again would be in the field."

Steve looked up. "In the field?"

Martha nodded. "When I'm not conducting health evaluations, tactical combat casualty care is my area of expertise."

Steve smiled at the revelation. "So you're a combat medic?"

"Technically, I'm a civilian, but for all intents and purposes, I suppose you could say that I am, yes."

"Then I guess I'll see you in the field," Steve responded hopefully.

"Oh, I hope not," Martha replied. When he looked at her questioningly, she broke into a bright smile. "It's just that I'd hate for you to find yourself requiring medicine attention, Captain Rogers," she explained.

Steve's smile returned. "Well if I do, Dr. Jones, I'm glad to know that I'll be in good hands."


	3. Breaking the Ice

It didn't take long for Steve and the rest of the S.T.R.I.K.E. team to get clearance to return to the field. Martha was right about it being a mere technicality, but it still felt good to get back out there. Their latest mission had just come to an end. A terrorist cell had taken hostages and the rescue mission had gone relatively smoothly, but there were still injuries.

Steve, of course, ran point with Natasha as his second. Clint was called in to assist and Brock Rumlow and the rest of the S.T.R.I.K.E. team rounded out the S.H.I.E.L.D. agents present. Additionally, UNIT had sent in a communications team and Martha led the medical support.

As the team began preparing for the return back to S.H.I.E.L.D. headquarters, Steve kept a watchful eye over his team with Natasha never too far away. Brock approached and Steve greeted him with a quick nod. "Status report?"

"Target has been taken into custody," Brock answered. "S.T.R.I.K.E. team present and accounted for."

"And the UNIT officers?"

"They're all here too," Natasha replied at his side.

Steve glanced at her then nodded again in Brock's direction. "Good work."

Natasha watched Brock walk away before turning her attention to Steve. "You seem mighty concerned with the UNIT personnel."

"I don't believe in leaving soldiers behind."

Natasha nodded. "Just make sure you don't drink the Kool-Aid."

Steve arched his brow. "CliffsNotes?" he asked. Natasha once made reference to a book that had been published after he went into the ice then explained the overall plot to him by giving him the highlights like in the CliffsNotes guides that were used by students. Ever since then, whenever he needed a quick explanation of one of her references, he requested the CliffsNotes version.

"Jonestown, 1978," Natasha began to hit the highlights. "Peoples Temple. Jim Jones. Cult mentality. Kool-Aid laced with cyanide. Over 200 causalities."

Steve pursed his lips at the explanation, formulating her meaning in his mind. "I've never been the type to follow blindly," he retorted.

Natasha shrugged. "At least the uniforms are nice."

"I hadn't noticed."

"Really?" Natasha watched him closely. He could tell that the wheels were turning inside her head, but he figured that they always were. "Hmm."

"What?" Steve asked.

Natasha looked forward. "Nothing."

"It's never just nothing with you."

"I'm just thinking."

"Whatever you say." Steve knew there was more to it than Natasha was letting on, but he didn't press the issue. Natasha wasn't the type to give up answers she didn't want to give. If she had something she wanted to say, she'd let him hear it whenever she was ready, whether he wanted to or not.

"Have you talked to that nurse in your building yet?"

"No," Steve answered.

Natasha regarded him with interest. "Why not? Too shy?"

"Too busy."

"Then maybe you should mix business with pleasure," Natasha suggested.

Steve lifted an eyebrow questioningly. "Meaning?"

"I know a few people we work with who are available," she told him. "I could set you up."

"I don't need to be set up."

"Do you have someone in mind then?"

Steve's thoughts immediately drifted to Martha. "I don't have time to…"

"You're the deflecting," Natasha observed. "That's as good as confirmation." She met his eyes briefly. "Should I guess?"

Steve exhaled sharply. "There's no need to guess."

"So it's obvious then?" Natasha looked around as if the answer was walking around waiting for her to find it. "It has to be someone you see regularly," she thought out loud. "Well it's definitely not me," she decided, but still glanced at him to gauge his reaction. "Maria's unlikely. Although…"

"I'm not interested in Agent Hill."

"Hmm. Is it someone from UNIT?"

Steve exhaled sharply. "Is this really necessary?"

"No, but it's fun." Natasha propped her hand under her chin. "What was that doctor's name again? Marla? Marsha?"

"Martha," Steve corrected automatically.

Natasha flashed a self-satisfied smile. "That was easy."

"I'm good with names," Steve replied.

"Just names?" Natasha smirked. "Do you want to play doctor with the doctor?"

Steve shook his head. "I'm not doing this with you."

"Are you feeling feverish? Maybe you should have her check your temperature."

"I'm not faking an injury just to see her again."

Natasha lowered her hand. "It doesn't _have_ to be fake," she replied pointedly. Most people would take her words in stride, but Steve knew that she'd gladly provide him with a real reason to seek medical attention without a second thought.

Steve rolled his eyes. "Yea, _definitely_ not doing this with you."

"She's cute," Natasha commented. "Smart. English. That's your type, right?"

Immediately Peggy's face was in Steve's head. When he thought about it, there were certain similarities between the two women. Both of them were beautiful, brilliant and British. And just like he had with Peggy before, Steve found himself wanting to see Martha at every available opportunity.

"I don't have a type."

"Everyone has a type."

"Then what's your type?" Steve challenged.

Natasha tilted her head with a smirk. "Do you really want to know?"

Steve met her eyes. "Would you give me an honest answer?"

Natasha shrugged and straightened her posture. "You should ask her out."

"I don't even know if she's interested."

"How could she not be? You're just _so_ dreamy," Natasha teased.

"I don't know about that," Steve replied dismissively. "But I would like to see her again," he confessed.

"So make an excuse to go and see her," Natasha suggested.

"Like a fake injury?"

"The offer is still on the table."

"I'm not letting you hit me so I can get a date."

"It wouldn't need to be a hit." Natasha appraised him slowly as if she was looking for his weak points. "There are _other_ ways."

"No," he said firmly.

Natasha met his eyes again. "So take someone else to see her," she retorted.

Steve looked around. "Do you see any injured people around here?"

"All the injured have been taken to the medical tent already," Clint said, coming up alongside of them.

Natasha glanced at Clint from the corner of her eye. "How are you doing?"

Clint frowned suspiciously. "Fine." He drew the word out. "Wh—" His question was interrupted by a sudden elbow to the face from Natasha. He immediately pinched his nose to staunch the blood flow. "What the hell?!"

Natasha turned to Steve who shook his head wordlessly. "You should help Barton get to the medical tent."

"Yea. I'll do that," Steve replied. He didn't exactly approve of her methods, but it was an opportunity. He looked at Clint. "C'mon," he said, putting his hand on Clint's shoulder and guiding him off in the opposite direction.

When they got to the medical tent, Martha and her team were hard at work patching up injured soldiers and civilians alike. She looked up as they entered and her eyes immediately went to Clint's bloody nose. "Agent Barton, what happened?" she asked with alarm. She moved over to him to inspect the damage. "You were fine a moment ago."

"Russian hostile," Clint answered bitterly.

If Martha had any idea of what had gone down, her face didn't reveal it. "Have a seat," she told him. "We'll clean you up and get you something to ice it down with to reduce the swelling, and then I'll check you for fractures."

Clint nodded and obediently had a seat on a gurney behind her.

Martha looked at Steve. "If there's nothing else, I can take it from here."

"Actually…" Steve paused and looked around. "Is there anything I could to do to help?"

"You saved these people's lives, Captain," Martha told him with a smile. "I'd say you've done plenty already."

Her words brought a smile to his face. "If one of us is saving lives here, it's you," Steve assured her.

"Is someone going to save my life?" Clint cut in irritably.

"Can someone get a cold compress for Agent Barton," Martha requested loudly. She glanced over her shoulder at Clint then back to Steve. "Do I want to know what happened there?" she asked in a lowered voice.

Steve laughed to himself. "Probably not."

Martha shrugged. "I'm sure Agent Romanoff had her reasons," she replied as she returned her focus to Clint's bloody nose.

Steve smiled at her comment. She was smart enough to figure that much out, but he hoped that she hadn't sussed out Natasha's motivation. "Natasha doesn't do anything without reason."

"I hope it wasn't anything silly like an excuse to get treatment," Martha replied. A medical assistant brought over supplies for her to use to treat Clint's nose and she began washing away the blood.

Steve smiled faltered. "Sorry?"

Martha glanced up. "You'd be surprised how many people purposefully injure themselves just to flirt with pretty nurses."

"Or doctors," Clint added, eyeing Steve over Martha's shoulder.

Martha laughed. "Or doctors."

Clint groaned softly and closed his eyes. "The things people do for love."

"More like lust," Martha countered.

"Don't you believe in romance, Dr. Jones?" Steve asked.

"Absolutely," Martha assured him with a smile. "But when you spend all day patching people up, you tend not to look at patients as potential love matches," she explained.

Steve nodded. "I guess that makes sense."

"If a man is interested, all he has to do is just ask me out for a drink or a cup of coffee," Martha told him.

Clint opened his eyes. "So you like coffee?" he asked.

"Yes." Martha looked Clint in the eyes. "We do drink more than just tea in England," she told him good-humoredly.

Steve watched their exchanged with a furrowed brow. This was an unexpected turn of events. Clint was flirting with her and Martha didn't seem to mind. Had he waited too long to make a move? Was Clint really interested in Martha or was he just taking revenge because he figured out the reasoning behind Natasha's shot to his face?

"You should get her a cup of coffee," Clint said to Steve, breaking him out of his thoughts. "Lady's over here working hard. She deserves a treat."

Once the blood was cleared away, Martha began examining Clint for fractures. "Thank you, Agent Barton, but I think I'll survive without it."

Steve folded his arms across his chest. "Knock it off, Barton."

"Better yet, take her out sometime," Clint quipped. "Get a drink. Get dinner. Get married."

Martha laughed again. "I tried marriage once. It didn't take."

"Too good for him?" Clint asked.

"Too busy," she answered. "We couldn't get our schedules to sync up so we hardly saw each other. We never even got passed the engagement stage."

"I don't know," Clint replied. "A woman who looks like you? I'd make time." He looked at Steve. "But I guess some people can't see what's right in front of them."

"Maybe." Martha followed his gaze to Steve and chuckled. "Maybe not." She returned her eyes to the task at hand.

"Are you done?" Steve asked Clint seriously. Clint responded with a noncommittal shrug and Steve turned his attention to Martha. "I'm sorry."

"Why?" Martha looked up again with a smirk. "This is the most entertainment I've had all day."

"Nothing wrong with putting a smile on a pretty lady's face," Clint insisted.

Steve fought the urge to cut his eyes at Clint and instead focused on Martha. "It is a beautiful smile."

"Thank you, Captain Rogers." Martha beamed. "Your smile is pretty nice too."

"Between the two of you, your kids would never need braces," Clint said suddenly.

Martha let out a strangled laugh. "Are we up to kids, already?"

"Cap here is a planner," Clint told her. "The Star Spangled Man with a Plan."

Martha tilted her head to one side and regarded Steve curiously. "Does your plan include impregnating me?"

"Trust me, none of this is _my_ plan," Steve assured her.

"Hmm," Martha responded and returned her attention to Clint. "It's not broken." She handed him a cold compress and stood up. "Use that to help with the swelling."

"She wasn't trying to break my nose. Just the ice," Clint said.

Martha nodded. "So I've noticed."

"She means well," Steve told Martha.

"I'm sure she does, but there are better ways. Ones that don't increase my work load," Martha told him seriously. "Or take me away from serious patients."

Clint lowered the compress from his face. "I'm not serious?" he asked, feigning offense.

Martha scoffed playfully. "Not in the slightest."

Steve nodded. "I'm sorry," he apologized sincerely. "Is there…how can I make it up to you?"

Martha paused to think. "How about you buy me that coffee when we get back and we'll call it even."

Steve smiled brightly. "It would be my pleasure."


	4. Love in an Elevator

Steve had been thinking about Martha and his promise to buy her a cup of coffee. He meant to ask her out as soon as they returned to Washington D.C., but another mission popped up and squashed those plans. A few weeks passed and he still hadn't made good on this word. That bothered him to no end, but hopefully he could correct that wrong sooner rather than later.

"This won't take long, right?" Steve asked Natasha as they stood in front of the bank of elevators inside the Triskelion.

Natasha eyed him closely, her interest suddenly piqued. "Do you have something better to do?"

"There's something I need to take care of," Steve replied vaguely as the doors opened. He looked inside and saw Martha standing alone.

Martha put on a smile when she saw the two of them. "Agent Romanoff." She nodded politely in Natasha's direction then turned to Steve. "Captain Rogers." She averted her eyes and shifted her weight from one foot to the other as if she was debating if she should stay put or exit the elevator to avoid the awkwardness.

"Dr. Jones," Steve said as stepped inside.

Natasha hung back and looked at Steve. "I'll meet you upstairs. There's something _I_ need to take care of."

Steve could have sworn he saw a glint in her eyes before the doors closed, but he sidelined those thoughts and instead he focused on the fact that he was alone in the elevator with Martha. He pushed the button for the floor to Nick Fury's office then settled back next to her. "It's been awhile."

Martha nodded. "Yes, it has."

Steve had spent the last few weeks thinking about her and hoping for a chance to see her again, but this tense encounter wasn't anything like what he pictured in his head. He cleared his throat and turned towards her. "About that cup of coffee—"

"It's fine." Martha held up a hand. "Things happen."

"I know, but I'm a man of my word," Steve countered. "And I made a promise to you."

Martha cracked a smile. "Relax. You promised me coffee not a kidney. I think I can live with the disappointment."

Steve arched a brow. "I disappointed you?"

Martha responded with a noncommittal shrug. "No one's perfect. Not even Captain America."

Steve opened his mouth to reply, but he was silenced when the elevator screeched to a halt, jousting them both around. Martha stumbled sideways and Steve caught her around the middle. Their eyes met briefly then he stood her back up on her feet.

"Please tell me we're not stuck in this lift."

Steve pressed the button for the doors a few times before exhaling sharping through his nose. "I would but it'd be a lie."

Martha scoffed. "Brilliant," she said bitterly. She fished her cellphone out of her pocket and studied the screen. "I can't get a decent signal either."

"Don't worry," Steve said calmly. "This elevator is in the middle of a high traffic area. They won't leave us in here for long."

Thirty minutes later, Martha sunk to the ground and looked up at him with an exasperated expression. "You were saying?"

"If it's taking this long then whatever caused the elevator to stall might be serious."

Martha stared at the hatch in the ceiling. "How far do you think we'd get if we climbed out?"

Steve leaned against the wall and crossed his arms over his chest. "Are you that eager to get away from me?"

Martha met his eyes. "If I wanted to avoid you, I could have left the lift when you got on. Or…I don't know…not talk to you for three weeks."

Steve scoffed softly. "You said it was fine."

"That was when this was just a short trip on the lift."

"And now?"

"Since we're stuck we might as well chat about something."

"This is your idea of small talk?"

"Sorry. I guess I'm a just bit tetchy. I didn't have my morning coffee yet," she told him with a slight smirk.

"C'mon." Steve groaned playfully. He moved to sit down on the ground so that they were eye level with one another. "Are you ever going to let me live it down?"

"I'm done," Martha promised. She took one finger and crossed her heart.

Steve nodded. "Just so you know…I was really looking forward to it."

"Duty called." Martha shrugged. "It's not like you could just skive off work for a day. And even if it you could, I doubt that _you_ would. You're Captain bloody America, super solider and hero."

Steve shook his head. "I'm just a kid from Brooklyn."

"You punched Hitler!" Martha smirked.

"I punched Hitler _on stage_…in tights."

Martha glanced down at his legs then back up. "You do have the legs for them."

Steve laughed. "Surprisingly, you're not the first person to tell me that."

His laughter brought a smile to Martha's face. "Kid from Brooklyn or not, you're an inspiration to a lot of people," she assured him. "I'm just a girl from London and even I know who you are," she pointed out.

"A girl from London who single handedly saved the world," Steve amended.

Martha quirked a brow. "You read my file?"

Steve glanced out the window that made up the elevator's back wall. "It may have crossed my desk," he said casually.

"Interesting reading?"

"I'll be honest, the whole time traveling thing took some time to wrap my head around," Steve said. "But I guess I can relate in a way. I traveled seventy years into the future. I just took the long way home."

"You know, I was in New York once before," Martha informed him. "It was Manhattan back in 1930 to be exact." Her face took on a wistful expression. Steve assumed that she was reliving the memories in her head and he couldn't help wondering how the city looked through her eyes. "Just think," she said. "We were in the same place at the same time."

"Yea, but I was just a kid then."

Martha tilted her head to one side and studied him as if she was trying to form a picture of what he would have looked like as a child. "I wouldn't mind seeing you as a kid."

A smile began at the corner of his lips. "I wish I would have had a doctor like you back then." He pulled his knees up and rested his arms on them. "I wouldn't even have had to fake an injury."

"No. You wouldn't have." Martha stared at him thoughtfully.

"What's that look?" he asked. It wasn't quite a look of pity, but he couldn't exactly place it.

"Just thinking," Martha said. Steve was prepared for her to leave it at that like Natasha did, but, to his surprise, she continued. "You've seen and lived through so much at such a young age."

"I'm in my nineties," Steve retorted.

"Technically," Martha said with a hint of smile. "Your time in the ice notwithstanding, you're still young. You were just at the start of your life." She shook her head. "I can't imagine what it must have felt like to wake up realize the world went on without you."

Steve inhaled deeply and held it for a moment before exhaling sharply. "Lonely."

"And now?" Martha asked softly.

"Well…" Steve took another deep breath. "Some good. Some bad." He shrugged. "Mostly good though."

"Is there something you miss the most?"

"The people," Steve said without hesitation.

Martha nodded. "That makes sense."

"And the Dodgers," he added with a playful scowl. "I mean L.A. Dodgers? It doesn't even sound right."

Martha laughed at his rant as she stood up to stretch her limbs. "Not a Yankees fan then?"

"The Yankees?" Steve looked offended. "No. If you were from Brooklyn back then, you were a Dodgers fan."

Martha smiled down at him. "You sound like my brother when he talks about football."

"Your brother?" Steve winced and rose to his feet. "If I'm starting to remind you of your brother then I'm definitely a lost cause."

Martha looked him in the eyes. "Not _completely_ lost."

"And all it took was getting stranded in an elevator together." Steve moved to stand closer to her. "Maybe next time I should get stuck with you inside a coffee shop."

Martha rolled her eyes. "Oh shut up," she said as she nudged him playfully.

Their eyes met again and they silently held each other's gaze. Steve instinctively leaned forward entering her personal space and her eyes widened slightly causing him to still his movement. He glanced down and began to back away, but she grabbed him by his collar and pulled him into a kiss. It was firm and passionate and unlike any kiss he had ever experienced before. Not that he had much experience in that area. Martha was more forward than most of the women he was used to and Steve wasn't afraid to admit that he liked that about her. He was never very good at reading the subtle signs women threw at him, but he was quite clear on the message Martha was sending and he was on the same page.

Steve's hands went to her waist, drawing Martha's body closer to his. He left some space between them out of respect, but she quickly closed the gap when she wrapped her arms around his neck. Steve's heart began to race and his breathing was shallow, though that might have been a good thing since neither of them seemed to be coming up for air anytime soon.

His hands moved from her hips, one stopping at the small of her back and the other traveling ever so slowly up her spine to the base of her neck. He felt her tremble in his arms before she pulled her mouth away from his. He immediately focused on her lips, wishing they would meet his again, but he willed himself to look her in the eyes. "That was…"

"A mistake," she finished for him, breathlessly.

"It didn't feel like one."

"The worst mistakes rarely do," Martha retorted.

Steve kept his hold on her and to his surprise she didn't fight him. He was thankful because he liked the way she fit into his embrace and he wasn't keen on letting go of her just yet, but he'd do so if she wanted. "Do you regret it?"

Martha looked at him like she was struggling with her response. "Yes…and no."

The 'no' made him feel hopeful, but the 'yes' kept him grounded. He selfishly allowed his thumb to linger against her neck for a moment before slowly releasing her. She unlaced her fingers from behind his neck and dropped her hands down to his chest. She stared at the ground for a moment and exhaled sharply before pushing herself back with her palms. Steve caught her along her elbows as she moved back, her arms slipped through his fingers until he got to her hands, which he grasped tightly.

"Don't," she said, almost pleading with him.

It pained him, but Steve respected her boundaries and let go of her completely. "Martha…" He had never addressed her by her first name, but after that kiss, Dr. Jones felt too formal.

Martha turned towards the window and sighed softly. "Business before pleasure, Cap. This isn't the time or place."

Steve nodded sadly. He knew she was right, but he couldn't help being disappointed. Things had been going so well then suddenly, he was back to square one. As if on cue, the elevator began to move again and they retreated to opposite sides of the elevator until the doors opened. When they opened, Natasha was standing on the other side of the doors with her hands on her hips.

"This is my stop," Martha said to no one in particular. She slipped passed Natasha, who stepped inside.

"Martha," Steve called after her, holding the door open. She paused and glanced back to meet his eyes. "What about that cup of coffee?"

Martha glanced away. "Let's just play it by ear," she answered before heading off down the corridor. Steve released the door and dropped his arm to his side in defeat.

Natasha watched him silently until the doors closed. "I bought you time alone with her," she said. "I hope you made good use of it."

Steve sighed and turned to face her. "I had a feeling that was you."

"Me and Stark."

"Stark?" Steve was genuinely surprised. "He helped _you_?"

"Not knowingly. He really should change his password again." Natasha smirked. "Did you make any progress?"

"Honestly?" Steve looked at her and shrugged. "I don't know. I thought that maybe…" He exhaled sharply and shook his head. "Peggy was right. I don't know a damn thing about women."


	5. Pity Party

It had been well over a month since the elevator incident and Steve couldn't get Martha out of his head. Late at night when the thoughts of the day had faded away, he found himself back in that elevator with her again. It was so vivid and so real. Martha in his arms, bodies pressed together, mouth to mouth. But more than just the physical intimacy, he longed to have that spiritual connection again. Steve missed her voice. He was certain that could listen to her talk for hours and never be bored. He loved the sound of her laughter and her smile. That smile. Brighter the sun it was and twice as warm.

Those precious moments in the elevator had simultaneously gotten his foot in the door and gotten the door slammed in his face. He had no idea where they stood and that bothered him. He wanted a chance with her more than words could express and if she gave him the opportunity, he'd be eternally grateful. And if she shut him down, well he'd be devastated, but he'd respect her choice and hope that they could at least be friends. Either way, he wanted an answer, but he had no idea how to go about getting one. And therein lay the problem.

It was times like these that Steve missed Bucky the most. Bucky never had trouble getting a date. He was both smart and handsome, which definitely went a long way, but he also had a natural charm about him that made it easy for him win people over.

Bucky would know what to do and he would know exactly what to say.

'He'd like her,' Steve thought to himself. There was no doubt about that in his mind. Though their interactions had been brief, Bucky liked Peggy, probably because she had no problem giving Steve a hard time. It was one more thing that she and Martha had in common.

Peggy would know what to tell him too.

As she had so accurately pointed out during the war, Steve knew very little about women, but he did know how to treat them. They were equals and deserved respect. Steve could have figured that much on his own even if it wasn't just him and his mom after his father died.

Still, a part of him thought it would be nice to gain Peggy's perspective on the situation with Martha. For some people, it might have been weird to get advice from a former flame, but Steve had long since made peace with the fact that Peggy went on with her life while he was stuck in the ice. A husband, kids and grandkids. The whole nine yards. She was happy and that was all that mattered to him.

Ultimately, Steve decided against visiting Peggy. They both may have moved on from the time they shared together, but he still considered her one of his favorite girls and part of him always would. Ever since the dementia had set in, she had her good days and her bad days. So the next time he went to visit her, he wanted it to be solely about Peggy and not because he needed help with his love life.

Steve still needed advice though, but he wasn't sure with whom to talk to about it. Natasha was the next obvious choice, but there was a 100% chance that she'd find a way to meddle like she did with the elevator and during the mission. If Clint's relationships with Bobbi and Jessica were any indication, he wasn't the best source of information either. Thor was currently on another plane of existence and frankly Bruce just didn't seem to have the temperament for that sort of thing, which left one person as a final option.

Tony was his father's son in more ways than one. Howard Stark was a ladies' man when Steve knew him and he had offered him sage advice when it came to pursuing Peggy. Surely Tony would have a thing or two to say on the matter. The question Steve had to ask himself was if the insight Tony could provide was worth the trouble Steve would have to endure to obtain it.

This was a bad idea. Steve was sure of it.

Nevertheless, Steve made his way through the crowded lobby of the newly rechristened Avengers Tower and hit the button for the elevator. Those thoughts of Martha in his arms resurfaced again.

"Steve? Is that you?" Pepper Potts's voice called over his shoulder.

He turned to face her. "Pepper."

"I'm surprised to see you here," Pepper said with a smile that faltered slightly. "You didn't have an appointment did you? Tony's not here. He left a vague message on my voice mail about Rhodey, Bruce and clean burning rocket engines."

"No." Steve shook his head. "It was a spur of the moment thing." He hesitated. "I just needed some advice."

Pepper quirked a brow. "From _Tony_?"

"Yea." Steve rubbed the back of his neck. "Desperate times call for desperate measures."

"Sounds like." The doors to the elevator opened and Pepper stepped inside.

"Actually," Steve began as he followed her in. "Maybe you can help me."

Pepper shrugged and pressed the button for the floor to her office. "I can try."

"Well…" Steve paused to think of how to begin. "There's this woman."

"Really?" Pepper's interest was definitely piqued by this turn of events. "And you were going to talk to _Tony_ about her? As a last resort, right?" she guessed.

Steve laughed. "Pretty much."

"I figured." Pepper nodded. "Well tell me about her."

"Her name is Martha. She's a doctor and a member of UNIT."

"Right, the interagency collaboration. I heard about that from Maria," Pepper said. "So what's the problem?"

"I'm not entirely sure," Steve answered. "I promised to take her out for coffee, but work kept getting in the way."

"Did you apologize?"

Steve nodded. "We got trapped in an elevator together and we talked things out," he confessed. "And we kissed."

"Okay. So far so good." Pepper listened and nodded. "Then what happened?"

Steve frowned as the memories came flooding back. "She said that the kiss had been a mistake and that we shouldn't mix business and pleasure. I haven't seen her since then."

"Is it possible that she's just not interested?" Pepper asked.

"I thought about that," he said sadly. "But she seemed like she was before then," he added hopefully. "She was disappointed about the coffee and she kissed me first. That has to mean something, right?"

"Hmm." Pepper paused thoughtfully. "It could be any number of things, Steve," she offered as an explanation with a slight shrug. "You won't really know for sure until you two sit down and talk about it, preferably face to face."

Steve sighed softly and nodded. "I feel like she's been avoiding me at work, but I do know her home address. Maybe I should wait for her there?"

"So you want hang out outside of house because you know she'll show up sooner or later?" Pepper asked with a frown. "You do know that counts as stalking right?"

Steve exhaled sharply and rubbed his temple. "I never said it was a good plan."

"I might have a better idea, if you're interested," Pepper offered. "It's similar, but decidedly less illegal."

Steve looked up. "I'm listening."

Pepper looked down at the tablet she had been holding the entire time and searched for something. "What's her last name?"

"Jones," Steve answered. "Dr. Martha Jones."

Pepper nodded and typed something quickly before turning the screen for Steve to see. "Tony is hosting a Christmas party," she announced. "I'm sending out the invitations myself. And I just put her name on the guest list." She smiled and tucked the tablet under her arm as the elevator doors opened. "If all else fails, maybe you can ask her for a dance," she suggested before stepping out of the elevator.

Steve watched the doors close and smiled to himself. He never got to dance with Peggy, but maybe he'd finally have his chance with Martha.


	6. Live a Little, Love a Little

Martha needed to concentrate. There was work to be done and she didn't have the time to be daydreaming about snogging Steve in the lift. And yet there she was sitting at her desk and staring at his file like an obsessed schoolgirl. She huffed in frustration and slammed the file closed.

There were several reasons why whatever this thing was that was developing between them wouldn't work. The most important of which was the fact that they worked together and office romances were usually complicated. Then there was the joint venture to consider. Sooner or later, UNIT and S.H.I.E.L.D. would be parting ways and Martha would have to go back to New York. The distance between Washington D.C. and New York City wasn't insurmountable, but they were already having a hard enough time seeing each other now. Was there a point to starting something if she already knew work and distance would come between them?

Martha needed someone to talk to about this. The only problem was that she had no idea who to talk to about it with. The majority of her UNIT workmates were currently stationed in other cities and would be hard to track down. And as nice as the S.H.I.E.L.D. agents could be, Martha hadn't developed a close enough relationship with anyone to have that sort of conversation yet. Well, there was Steve. She had a feeling that she could talk to him about anything. But before they had that conversation, Martha needed to sort her own thoughts on the subject.

Ideally, she could chat with one of her friends from outside of work, but the downside of working for a secret government agency was that she had to keep things confidential. With the exception of her family and a handful of people she met during her time with UNIT and the Doctor, no one knew what she _actually_ did for a living.

When in doubt, there was one person Martha could always turn to in her time of need and that was her big sister. Martha dialed Tish's number and waited for her to answer.

"Hello?" Tish answered groggily.

"Tish? Are you busy?"

"Busy?" Tish scoffed. "Martha, it's half ten on a Wednesday night and I have work in the morning."

"Oh God, Tish! I'm so sorry." Martha glanced at her watch. "I didn't even think to check the time before I rang."

"It's fine." Tish sighed. "I'm up now."

"Well, if you can spare the time, I definitely could use the advice."

Tish yawned. "You're asking _me_ for advice? Am I still dreaming?"

"I've asked for your advice before."

"Yea, for things like style tips and chatting about blokes and…OH MY GOD!" Tish was fully awake now. "This is about a bloke, isn't it?"

Martha sighed. "If you must know, yes, there is a man who I kinda sorta fancy…a bit."

"Listen to you, you bloody liar. You wouldn't be ringing me for someone you just 'kinda sorta fancy a bit,'" Tish reasoned. "So spill. Who is he? Is he American?"

'Not just any American, Captain bloody America,' Martha thought to herself, but she couldn't tell her sister that. Tish and the rest of Martha's family knew all about her ties to UNIT and they were well aware of the reason she was currently living in Washington D.C., but now that S.H.I.E.L.D. was involved, she was strictly forbidden from divulging certain details. So she had to keep things vague. "Yes, he's American."

"Is it one of them?"

"Is what one of whom?"

"The bloke that's done your head in? Is he an Avenger?"

So much for subtlety. "How did you go from 'is he American' to 'is he an Avenger?'"

"Because I have eyes," Tish replied. "They were all over the papers after the Battle of New York. UNIT is cleaning up that mess, right? So you've probably seen them in person and personalities aside, you always manage pulled hot guys."

"The men I've fancied have had perfectly fine personalities," Martha argued.

"Is it Thor?"

"Seriously?"

"Oh my hunky Norse god it's him, isn't it?" Tish gasped. "Who am I kidding? Oh course it is! He's right up your alley, you alien loving slag."

Martha rolled her eyes. "First of all, it takes a slag to know one."

"At least I'll admit it," Tish sang back.

"Secondly, Thor isn't even an alien. Asgard is a different dimension not a different planet."

Tish scoffed. "It might as well be the same thing. Besides, he's gorgeous and he swings a big hammer," she pointed out suggestively. "What more do I need to know?"

"Well there is the fact that, I can't be dating Thor because I've never actually _met_ Thor," Martha informed her sister. "And even if I had, from what I hear, he has his eye on a different doctor."

"Fine maybe not Thor, but they're all pretty fit. Even the redhead and I don't even swing that way."

"I'll tell Natasha you think so," Martha retorted then groaned softly. That was more information that she should have shared. The only consolation was that Natasha Romanoff wasn't her real name. "Forget you heard that name."

"Ugh, even her name is hot."

"Yes, she is extremely attractive, but I don't fancy her."

"Is it Tony Stark? _Please_ tell you're dating Tony Stark. If not, can I have his number?" Tish requested. "I'm not a gold digger or anything, but the man is richer than the Queen."

"I haven't met Tony Stark either. I mean not officially, but there is a party coming up that he's hosting. It's a work thing. A Christmas do."

"You _have_ to go."

Martha exhaled sharply and massaged her temple with her free hand. "Tish, I'm not helping you pull a millionaire."

"Tony Stark's a billionaire," Tish corrected. "But I don't want to date him. I mean I would definitely shag him without a second thought," she admitted.

"Of course you would."

"Shagability aside, I want to work for him. If anyone could use a good PR person, it's Tony Stark, but that's not what I meant, Martha."

"What _do_ you mean then?"

"I meant you should go to the party and have some fun for once in your life. You worry too much and you work too much. Have you even taken time to yourself since you and Tom split up?"

"I take time for myself," Martha insisted.

"Not nearly enough. You need to get out more. Let loose. Shag an Avenger and then ring me with the all sordid details."

"If I was shagging an Avenger, you'd probably be the last person I told. With that gob of yours, it'd be in the Daily Mail by the next morning."

"Oi! I can keep a secret," Tish protested.

"Yea? So can I," Martha retorted with a laugh.

"Whatever. Still, wouldn't you rather tell me before mum?" Tish challenged.

"Oh God…mum."

"Exactly!" Tish replied. "It's not the green bloke, is it? Imagine him going a few rounds with mum. I'm not even sure who'd win out."

"I'm not dating him."

"You know, I think I could look pass him being all green and cross if he was a decent bloke underneath. I mean I've dated worse."

Martha shrugged. "I don't know him all that well. He does seem nice though. He's quiet and he likes to keep to himself. He spends a lot of time in his lab."

"Another science geek? Ugh, should've known. That's _definitely_ your type."

"You do realize that Tony Stark is basically a science geek, don't you?"

"Yea, but he's hot, rich and a potential employer. So _he_ gets a pass."

"You know I rang for your help, but so far all we've established is that you'd shag two-thirds of the Avengers."

"Two-thirds? Who did I miss? Wait. The archer, yea? If he can hit his target in the bedroom, then it's definitely something to consider."

Martha laughed. "I won't be telling him that." She paused before speaking again. "What about Captain America?"

"Eh," Tish responded. "I mean _Captain America_? It's such an American thing to call yourself, don't you think? Can you imagine a bloke dressed in the Union Flag calling himself, Captain Britain?"

"I'm not at liberty to say," Martha answered.

Tish gasped. "Shit? Seriously?"

"So you'd shag the others, but Captain America is too patriotic?" Martha asked, getting her back on topic.

"Oh I'd definitely shag him," Tish insisted. "Have you seen his bum? Phwoar!"

"I haven't noticed."

"Seriously, Google 'Captain America's arse.' You will _not_ be sorry."

"Right, I think it's time for you to go back to sleep now," Martha told her.

"Fine, but can I say one more thing?"

Martha sighed. "Could I stop you?"

"No," Tish answered quickly before continuing. "You're a good judge of character, Martha. So if you fancy this mystery man, then he's probably the real deal. You deserve to be happy. So don't let your breakup with Tom or whatever bullshit reason you've concocted keep you from your happy ending. Go to the party. And wear that sexy green dress I talked you into buying the last time I was in New York. You wear that and a pair of heels, then you'll have Jolly Green or whoever he is eating out the palm of your hand."

Martha laughed softly. "Thanks, Tish. I love you."

"I love you too, little sis."

Martha tucked her mobile back into her pocket and stared at the closed file. Tish was right. Martha shouldn't give up on Steve before they even tried. The only question she had now was if she had time to find the perfect pair of heels to go with that green dress of hers before the party.


	7. All I Want for Christmas is You

Steve wasn't really feeling the holiday spirit, but he showed up to Tony's Christmas party because he knew Tony would never leave him alone if he didn't. Also, he was secretly hoping that Martha had accepted Pepper's invitation and he'd have a chance to clear the air with her. He scanned the room looking for somewhere he could go to be alone and work out his game plan, but what he found instead was Martha.

Once he saw her, he felt powerless to look away. The artist in him appreciated her choice of attire. She wore an emerald colored dress that complimented her skin tone and the cut of the material accentuated her body in a way that created the most amazing lines. He drank in the details so that he could capture them on paper once he was reunited with his sketchbook. As an artist, he thought she made the perfect muse. And as a man…well she inspired a different sort of thought process. When he realized that he had been staring at her the whole time, he quickly averted his eyes, but it was too late.

"Eyes front soldier," Martha teased.

Steve cleared his throat and forced a sheepish grin. "Dr. Jones. It's been a while."

"Yes, it has," Martha replied with a warm smile. "Merry Christmas, Captain Rogers."

"Merry Christmas."

"Are you having a nice evening?"

"It's a bit too fancy for my taste, but Stark's always seemed to be more concerned with style than substance."

"You clean up nicely though," Martha commented as she looked him over slowly. Steve shifted slightly under her scrutiny.

"So do you," Steve responded. He allowed his eyes to sweep over her form once more. "You look beautiful."

Martha tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. "Thank you." She glanced at something just over his head then leaned forward and placed a gentle kiss near the corner of his mouth. Normally, she'd have to strain on the tips of her toes, but tonight she had worn heels and it made any easier job of it.

"What was that for?" Steve asked, trying to downplay the racing of his heart, but quickly reminded himself that she was a doctor and wouldn't have trouble taking his pulse.

Martha smiled and pointed upward. "Mistletoe."

Steve followed her gaze. "Of course." He shoved his hands in his pockets and glanced down at his feet.

"I'm sorry," Martha apologized suddenly. "That was out of line, wasn't it?"

"No." Steve looked up quickly. "It's a tradition."

"Just because something is a tradition doesn't mean you have to go along with it," Martha said. "I mean there's this tradition about stirring the Christmas pudding for luck in the UK, but not everyone does it just because it's a tradition."

Steve frowned. "Stirring the pudding?"

Martha laughed softly. "Yea, it's a thing, but I'm not entirely sure why."

"It's not a bad tradition," Steve said. "The mistletoe I mean."

"You're right. It isn't," Martha agreed. She glanced up at the mistletoe again then took Steve by the hands and pulled him a few steps forward so he wasn't under it anymore. "But it's not necessary." She closed the space between them and pressed another kiss on the same spot.

Steve let go of her hands and caught her by the waist, holding her body close to his, but leaving a bit of space. "That wasn't a mistake," he said in a low voice.

"No," Martha confirmed, meeting his eyes. "I like you, Cap. I like you a lot."

The corner of Steve's mouth twitched upward. "Are we still playing it by ear?"

"Yes," Martha said with a hint of a smile.

"What do your ears tell you now?"

Martha placed her hands on his shoulders and pressed her body against his. She leaned her head in so close to his that he could feel her breath against his neck and her lips flitting next to his earlobe. "I can show you better than I can tell you," she whispered.

Steve let out a breathy laugh and tightened his grip on her hips. "That certainly is a tempting offer, Doc."

Martha sighed softly and dropped her hands down to his forearms. "Why do I sense a 'but' coming?" she asked as she pulled back to look him in the eyes again.

"Call me old fashioned, but I think I should at least take you out on a proper date before we…"

"Rip each other's clothes off?"

Steve's brows went up at her choice of words, but he recovered and nodded. "Yes."

Martha chuckled. "Don't mind me. I think I've had too much eggnog. You're absolutely right though," she said. "Shall we dance?"

"On our date?"

"Shouldn't you ask me before you start planning?" she teased.

Steve broke into a full grin. "Forgive my lack of manners." Martha shrugged playfully and Steve moved his hands away from her hips to reach for her hands. "Martha Jones, will you go out with me sometime?"

Martha made a dramatic show of pausing to think. "On one condition," she said, squeezing his hands gently.

Steve nodded. "Name it."

"Dance with me," Martha requested. Without waiting for a response, she tugged him towards the dance floor.

Steve had been waiting for this moment, but he had hoped to be the one to ask her to dance. He was still wading through all the music he had missed while he was stuck in the ice and wanted to choose a song that he recognized, but his fear was silenced when realized that an old jazz standard from his prewar days was playing. He looked towards the source of the music and saw Natasha and Clint standing near the DJ. Natasha winked and Clint threw him a covert thumb up before they headed off towards the bar.

"I know this song," Martha said, breaking him from his thoughts. "Glenn Miller, yea? Manhattan…no…"

"Moonlight Serenade," they said in unison.

"You know it?" Steve asked, allowing her to lead him into the fray of dancing couples.

Martha nodded. "My grandfather used to play it on his old phonograph. He taught my brother and sister and I how to dance."

"Are you any good?"

Martha placed one hand on his shoulder and laced the fingers of her free hand with his. "You tell me."

Steve rested his hand at the small of her back and was instantly transported to the kiss they shared in the elevator. "The best," he said softly. They held each other's gaze and Steve allowed himself to get lost in both the moment and Martha. When he came back down from his high, the song was over and a modern tune was playing in its place.

As soon as he halted their movement, Martha replied, "All I Want for Christmas is You." Steve sent her a questioning expression. "The song," she clarified with a smile. "It's a pop song by Mariah Carey."

Steve looked towards the DJ again, expecting to see Natasha and Clint, but instead he found an amused Tony Stark. Steve shot him a stern glare, to which Tony responded with a lift of his champagne flute before Pepper swooped in and intervened.

Martha wrapped her arms around Steve's neck and guided their movements. "Do you hate it?"

Steve put his arms around her waist and focused his attention on Martha once again. "No."

"It's one of my favorites," Martha confessed before beginning to softly sing along with the lyrics.

"Yea." Steve watched her with a smile. "I think it might be becoming one of mine too."


	8. Something to Talk About

Steve didn't waste any time after the party arranging what he hoped was to be the first of many dates with Martha. Unfortunately, it was easier said than done. S.H.I.E.L.D. and UNIT may have been working together, but they were still two separate agencies with two different agendas. As such, Steve and Martha's schedules didn't always line up when they wanted them to.

Well into the New Year and after a couple of false starts, they finally had an opportunity. Steve had the day off, but Martha had to meet him after work. She called him to tell him that she needed swing by her apartment, which was just outside of Washington D.C. in Maryland. So Steve stood outside a café in Silver Spring awaiting Martha's arrival.

After all the buildup, a tiny part of him felt as though they should have made a big to do about their first official date, but the reality of their situation was that their lives didn't leave much time for romance. Nevertheless, dinner would have been nice. Somewhere quiet where they could talk and get better acquainted. Maybe even go out and listen to music afterwards.

They had talked about her grandfather's record collection after their first dance and she made a few suggestions of contemporary music he should check out whenever he got the chance. Martha felt that Adele had a voice that could be one of those classics that people talked about for generations. Up until that point he had only heard that one song she did for Skyfall during an impromptu Bond movie marathon Clint roped him and Natasha into watching. Steve's favorite had been one of the themes by Shirley Bassey, but he did find the other woman's talent to be promising. So he vowed to listen to both of her albums and let Martha know what he thought.

When Martha arrived, she looked a bit tired, no doubt a result of her busy schedule, but she put on a bright smile as soon as she saw him. "I hope you haven't been waiting long."

"Not too long," Steve replied. "But I did have enough time to get this." He held up a gift bag for her.

Martha stared at the bag in his hand and her smile dimmed a bit. "You didn't have to buy me anything."

Steve nodded. "I know, but when I saw it I thought of you. So, take it."

Martha took the bag from him when he offered it. "Thank you," she said graciously.

"Take a look," Steve told her. A smirk played on his lips as he waited for her reaction.

Martha peeked inside of the bag and broke into laughter. She looked up at him shaking her head. "Seriously?" Steve shrugged innocently. Martha reached into the bag and pulled out a canister of chocolate covered espresso beans. "So you finally bought me that coffee you owed me, huh?"

"A promise is a promise, right?"

"Yes, it is." She slipped the canister back into the bag. "Very smooth, Captain Rogers. _Very_ smooth."

Steve shrugged again. "I have my moments."

"I see that." Martha gestured to a coffee shop a few doors down. "Why don't I save these for later and we can sit down for an actual cup of coffee?"

"Sounds perfect." They fell into step with one another and Steve tucked the leather bound book he had in his freehand underneath his arm.

"Were you drawing while you waited?" Martha asked, gesturing to his sketchbook.

"Not really," Steve replied. "I just like to carry it with me. You know, in case inspiration strikes."

"May I see them sometime?"

Steve quirked a brow. "You want to see my sketches?"

"You can say no," Martha said quickly. "I know those sorts of things can be really personal."

"No. It's fine." Steve shook his head as he stopped to hold the door open for her. "You can see them."

Martha flashed her signature smile. "I can't wait."

Steve ordered coffee for the both of them, black with two sugars for himself and an iced Americano for Martha. She requested a chocolate croissant and they agreed to split it. Once they had their order, they found a table near the window and sat down. Martha recounted her day to him while they drank their coffee and ate. After they were done, Steve slid his sketchbook across the table to her.

Martha eagerly undid the ties holding the book closed and looked inside. She took the time to study each image closely before carefully turning the pages. "So this is the famous Bucky Barnes?"

"Yea." Steve stared down at the sketch wistfully. Sometimes when he was feeling nostalgic he'd pull out his sketchbook and drew all the people and things his missed. Bucky. The Howling Commandos. Erskine. The old neighborhood. Ebbets Field.

Peggy.

There were quite a few sketches of Peggy. Some of how he remembered her before the ice and just as many of how he saw her now. Martha turned to a page with mirrored images of Peggy from her days during the war and more recently. Martha glanced up at him with a warm smile. "She's lovely."

"She was my best girl."

"You visit her still, yea?"

Steve nodded. "Not as much as I'd like, but it's hard sometimes…with my schedule and…she has her bad days."

Martha reached across the table and squeezed his hand. That comforting smile she showed him during his examination so long ago returned. "You don't have to justify your actions to me," she said softly. "I know your have good intentions. I'm sure she knows too."

Steve met her eyes and shook his head slightly. "How do you do that? How do you know exactly what I need to hear every time?"

"I'm a doctor," Martha replied with a laugh. "We usually just follow the clues up until the point that we're forced to guess. Then we hope for the best."

Steve moved his hand so that he could stroke the back of her hand with his thumb. "You're a pretty good guesser."

Martha laughed a bit harder. "Yea? Well I've had a lot of practice."

"All the better for me then."

Steve released her hand and Martha returned her attention to the book. More modern sketches appeared as she flipped the pages. The other Avengers. Phil Coulson. New York cityscapes. Washington landmarks. The Triskelion. UNIT soldiers. There were a number of unfinished sketches as well, but one in particular piqued her interest.

"Is that?" Martha looked up from the book. "That looks like the dress I wore to Tony Stark's party."

Steve nodded. "It was a great dress."

Martha smiled and ran her fingers over the drawing. "Is there a reason I don't have a face?"

Steve winced playfully. "I could never get it quite right," he explained. She looked up again and he met her eyes. "None of my sketches seemed captured the essence of the real thing."

"Maybe I should pose for you sometime."

The corner of his mouth turned upward. "I'd like that."

"As long as you don't expect me to get my kit off so you can draw me like one of your French girls," she joked.

Steve furrowed his brow as he racked his brains to remember the reference she had just made. "I know that's from a movie, but I'm not sure which one."

"Titanic," Martha answered. "Kate Winslet, Leonardo DiCaprio and the ever present Celine Dion song that everyone tried to sing even though most of them _really_ shouldn't have done."

Steve nodded. "I've heard of it."

"Not your cup of tea?"

"Well when you know people who were directly affected by the real thing, the movie sorta feels like it's in poor taste."

"I imagine so," Martha agreed. "But you'd be amazed the strange circumstances filmmakers are willing to insert a romantic subplot."

"Does that mean I can't talk you into seeing a romantic movie with me one of these days?"

"You can try," Martha told him with a grin. "But I already have the greatest film ever made on DVD."

"Oh?" Steve asked with genuine interest. "What movie is that?"

"The Princess Bride."

"I haven't seen that either."

Martha grabbed his hand again. "You have to see it!"

Steve smirked. "Because it's the best movie ever made?"

"Yes!"

"How about we watch it together?"

Martha smiled at his suggestion and let go of his hand. "Trying to swing a second date before the first one is even over?" she teased. "Ambitious, aren't you?"

Steve shrugged. "I like to plan ahead."

"Fair enough. How about you plan to come round to my flat tomorrow?" Martha suggested. "I'll cook us dinner and we'll watch the film afterwards. We can make a whole night of it."

"You cook?"

"Well…" Martha made a face. "With my schedule there's usually a lot of heating and reheating, but I've never burned anything," she pointed out. "So that has to be a good sign."

"I think it's a sign that we should probably get takeout."

"Probably," Martha conceded with a grin. "There's a place not too far from my flat that has the most amazing curry. Do you like Indian food?"

"Never had it."

"Captain. Captain. Captain." Martha tsked playfully. "There's _so_ much you've yet to learn."

Steve smirked. "I'm working on it."

"Good."

"Any tips?"

"Hmm." Martha paused to think. "Lulls in conversations like this are a perfect time for snogging."

Steve quirked a brow. "Snogging?"

"Kissing."

"I know what it means," Steve said. "But don't you think we should do that somewhere more…private?"

"You mean like a stalled lift or a crowded dance floor?" Martha quipped.

Steve rolled his eyes. "I'm being serious."

"So am I." Martha looked around. "No one is watching."

Steve glanced around as well. "A quick one?"

"You know the bashful thing is surprisingly adorable," Martha teased.

"I'm not bashful," Steve protested. "Or adorable."

Martha laughed. "All evidence to the contrary."

Steve huffed and shook his head. "I know what you're doing," he told her with a hint of a smile. "And it's not going to work."

Martha shrugged playfully. "It's all guesswork." She picked up the sketchbook and held it up to shield her face from the other coffeehouse patrons as she leaned forward. "Does this help?"

Steve leaned forward slightly and rested his arms on the table. "Now who's being ambitious?" he challenged.

"Oh you arse!" Martha retorted with a lighthearted scowl. She closed the sketchbook and handed it back to him. "I don't even want to kiss you now," she said defiantly.

Steve laughed softly as he retied the binding on his sketchbook. "I don't believe you."

"I don't care," Martha said with a sassy smile.

Steve looked up again. "Yes, you do."

Martha stared him in the eyes and leaned a bit further across the table. "Prove it."

"Maybe I will," Steve answered back in a low voice as he inched forward.

Martha moved a tad closer. "I'll win if you do," she reminded him.

"It's not really a loss from my perspective," Steve said as he leaned in to kiss her. Martha laughed softly and moved towards him as well, but before their lips could meet his phone began to ring. They both exhaled sharply as they pulled away from one another and he reached for his cell. "I should answer that."

"Of course." Just then Martha's mobile rang as well. "That can't be a coincidence."

They both took a moment to answer their calls. Once they were done, Steve sighed softly and shoved his phone back into his pocket. "I gotta go," he said regretfully as he rose to his feet. "There's a mission."

"In London?" Martha guessed as she followed suit.

Steve tucked his sketchbook under his arm again. "You too?"

Martha picked up her gift bag and followed him outside, depositing her empty cup in the bin next to the door. "Yea, apparently your mate Thor had a big drag out trans-dimensional battle and now there's a frost monster roaming around my city."

Steve turned to face her once they were outside. "I guess we'll have to reschedule the movie night."

Martha shrugged. "It seems to be the trend, but we'll figure it out," she assured him.

"Do you want a lift back to your place?"

Martha shook her head. "I'll manage." She shooed him away jokingly. "Go save the world."

Steve laughed. "See you in London?"

"Definitely," Martha promised with a bright smile. She started walking away and Steve caught her by the arm.

"Martha?"

She turned to look at him. "Yea?"

Steve took a deep breath and let it out quickly then pulled her close for a kiss. It wasn't as fiery or passionate as the one in the elevator, but it was a definitely a step above the chaste peck she'd given him at Christmas.

Martha pulled back with a mischievous grin. "A kiss in public? People will talk."

"So let them talk," Steve replied then moved in for one more parting kiss.


	9. Hold On, We're Going Home Pt 1

The thing Martha loved most about her job was that she often got to go to new places and meet new people. But once she set foot back in England, she felt the sense of relief that could only be achieved by going home. As much as she loved working stateside, part of her heart would always be in London.

It was good to be home.

After the mission's completion, Martha had received special permission from Kate to spend a few extra days in town, much to her mother's delight. The first full day at home was spent lounging around her flat in her pajamas all day. She couldn't remember the last time she had that luxury. Well over a year, she estimated. She promised herself that she'd find some excuse to leave the house the next day and was pleasantly surprised when a call from Steve gave her as good of reason as any.

"I figured you'd be back in Washington D.C. by now," Martha said with a smile when she answered her phone.

"I was supposed to be," Steve told her. "Change of plans."

"You and your plans," Martha teased.

"Would you like to be a part of them?"

"Are you asking me out on a date?"

"Well our first one was interrupted," Steve reminded her. "And since this is your city, I figured who better to see it with than you."

Martha laughed. "You know for a man who claims to be bad with women, you're surprisingly adept at flirting."

"I'm not good with women. I'm good with _you_," Steve retorted. "You make it easy."

"FYI, most women don't take to being associated with easiness," Martha joked.

"You know what I meant."

"I do," Martha assured him. "I just like taking the mick out of you."

Steve chuckled on his end of the phone. "Yea. I've noticed."

"So about that date," Martha said.

"Just name the time and place."

"Meet me next to the lions in Trafalgar Square in an hour."

"I'll be counting the seconds."

Martha quickly ended the call and got dressed. She changed her outfit a few times, making an effort to look nice without appearing as though she was trying too hard. When she arrived at the square, Steve was already waiting for her at the base of Nelson's Column. "You're early."

"So are you."

Martha smiled. "Maybe I missed you."

Steve smiled as well. "Just maybe?"

"Yep. That's all you're getting."

"I'll take it." Steve stood up and reached for her hand. "So where are we headed?"

"I was thinking a museum," Martha said as she slipped her hand into his. "You like art and the National Gallery is just there," she said pointing to the museum across the square from them. "And there are plenty more in walking distance. So we could probably do a couple. Have a bite in between."

"Sounds like a plan."

Martha led the way across the square and up the portico to the gallery's main vestibule. They were preparing to enter the Central Hall when Martha suddenly stopped. "Did you hear something?"

Steve paused and listened closely. "No. I…" He frowned. "Wait. What is that?"

Martha shushed him then smiled when she heard the familiar sound. "Come on." She tugged on Steve's hand and rushed towards the closed Room 1. She peeked around to make sure no one was watching them then slipped inside where the old blue box stood as if she had always been there waiting.

Steve stared at the box then looked at Martha. "Is that what I think it is?"

"Yes it is," Martha answered.

"So that means?"

Before Martha could answer the Doctor stepped out of his TARDIS and looked around. "This isn't the Library of Alexandria."

"Not even close," Martha said.

The Doctor wheeled around at the sound of her voice. "Martha Jones!" He greeted her with kisses to both cheek. "Always a pleasure."

"Doctor!" Martha hugged him tightly.

The Doctor pulled back and looked at her with a frown. "What are you doing here? Wherever _here_ is."

"The National Gallery," she answered. "And I was trying to have a date," she added gesturing towards Steve.

"Of course! Dr. Tom Milligan! How are you doing?" The Doctor frowned as he looked at Steve. "Not Tom." He looked at Martha. "Where is Tom?"

"Tom is out of the picture," Martha said quickly.

"So long Tom. Hello…"

Steve extended his hand to the man. "Steve Rogers."

"Steve Rogers." The Doctor shook his hand. "I'm the Doctor."

"Good to finally meet you," Steve said. "I've heard a lot about you."

"I wish I could say the same," the Doctor replied. "Or maybe I have? Steve Rogers. _Steve_ Rogers. Steve…_Rogers_. Why do I know that name?"

"Well…" Martha glanced at Steve then back to the Doctor. "He's Captain America."

"That Steve Rogers!" the Doctor said suddenly. He looked him over. "You've certainly changed since the last time I saw you. Of course, so have I." He stroked his face.

Steve stared at him in disbelief. "Are you saying we've met before?"

"Brief encounter," the Doctor said with a wave of his hands. "It was the 1930s. There were Daleks in Manhattan. Martha had gone missing. I recall a woman named Sarah and her son who didn't take kindly to being helped up by a stranger. You weren't rude of course. You just needed to prove that you could take care of yourself. And so you have!" He clapped his hands together happily and smiled. "Love a good underdog story!"

"Wow." Martha looked at Steve. "I guess we were closer to meeting than we realized."

Steve returned her glance. "I suppose so."

"Speaking of meetings, is anyone going to introduce me?" Clara asked, popping her head around the TARDIS door.

Steve stared at her with wide eyes. "Connie?"

"Close," Clara retorted as she stepped out. "Clara. Clara Oswald."

"We've met before," Steve insisted. "I mean I _think_ we did. There was a girl before the war named Connie, but she looks exactly like you."

Martha turned to the Doctor. "Is that possible?"

"Another version of me?" Clara asked the Doctor.

"_Another_?" Steve questioned.

"It's a long story," the Doctor said. "Clara jumped into my time stream and was splintered. There are echoes of her showing up across all of time and space." He paused. "Actually that story wasn't very long at all."

"So Connie was…_is_ a version of Clara?" Steve asked.

The Doctor nodded. "So it would seem."

Steve rubbed his temple. "I might need a minute."

"So I was mates with a superhero?" Clara asked with a grin. "Well done me."

"We went on a date," Steve told her. "A double date to the fair. You were with Bucky and you brought your friend Bonnie along for me. We saw Howard Stark's exhibit with the flying car."

"Well that sounds exciting." Clara beamed. "Doctor, can we go there?"

The Doctor frowned. "I don't think you should be going anywhere other versions of yourself exist," he told Clara sternly. "And I can't take the TARDIS back to New York during that time again. It's…complicated."

"So we'll land in New Jersey and hitch a ride across the river," Clara suggested.

Martha smirked. "Can't argue with that logic."

The Doctor scoffed. "I can argue with any logic," he retorted defiantly as he tweaked his bowtie.

"Yea, that's not a comforting sentiment," Clara said.

"If we go back in time," Steve began then paused.

Martha squeezed his hand. "You can see him again." She gave him a warm smile when he looked at her. "You can see Bucky."

"So it's settled!" Clara replied and moved back inside the TARDIS.

The Doctor followed behind her protesting. "Nothing is settled! I have the final say!"

"Actually I think she does," Martha retorted referring to the TARDIS. She pulled Steve inside and he paused at the entrance.

"It really is bigger on the inside," Steve marveled.

"You don't know the half of it," Martha told him with a grin.

"Show me?"

"Gladly."

Martha led him on a tour of the massive ship, including an all-important stop in the wardrobe for more period friendly clothes. Martha picked a plain and understated dress as not to arouse too much attention. They needed to blend in as much as possible, her especially.

"If I knew you'd look that good in the dresses from my time, I would have suggested time travel a lot sooner," Steve said as he stepped from around the corner.

Martha turned to look at him, he was dressed in an outfit her grandfather would have probably worn back in the day, but somehow he managed to look amazing in it. "You look pretty decent yourself."

"Maybe we should sneak off and finish our date," he joked.

"As tempting as that sounds, we both know it's a bad idea," Martha said. She drew in a breath then let it out sharply. "I don't exactly have the best track record with traveling to certain parts of the past," she told him seriously. "For _obvious_ reasons."

"Martha…"

"You and me out there holding hands?" She shook her head. "We're not here to make a statement, Cap. We're here so you can see Bucky."

Steve sighed. As much as it killed him, he knew Martha was right. New York never had the anti-miscegenation laws that a lot of the other states had at some point, but that didn't mean it was free of prejudiced people. He had a hard enough time growing up being the son of Irish immigrants. He didn't even want to think about what could happen if some bigot saw the two of them together. A lot of progress had been made in seventy years. Not as much as there could have been, but Steve was at least comforted in knowing that he could openly hold Martha's hand in public. "If you're afraid of someone hassling you…"

"Is that what you think?" Martha cut him off. "That I'm afraid of being harassed?" She scoffed softly. "The only thing I'm afraid of is some bastard giving me cheek and being tempted to put them on their arse. I'm not looking to be arrested."

Steve cracked a smile. "No one wants that," he agreed.

"Don't worry about me. I'll be fine." Martha rose up on her tiptoes and gave him a quick kiss. "Just don't think that this counts as our second date."


	10. Hold On, We're Going Home Pt 2

Martha and Steve returned to the TARDIS control room and found the Doctor and Clara dressed for the occasion and waiting for them. "Now that we're all here, I think it's high time that I remind you lot that it's important that none of you upset any events while we're out there," the Doctor said.

"This coming from him?" Clara muttered under her breath causing Martha to smile.

"There are two versions of you walking around," he continued, looking at Steve and Clara. "You cannot under _any_ circumstances let yourself been seen by your other self."

"Maybe you should give them a perception filter," Martha suggested.

"Oh Martha Jones, you clever girl! I could kiss you!" the Doctor said as he searched for a TARDIS key to make a perfection filter with. "Somebody kiss her for me."

Steve moved to kiss Martha, but Clara beat him to the punch and placed a kiss on Martha's cheek. "Don't give me that look. I was closer," she said. "Besides, haven't you two been snogging enough? I know what you were up to in the wardrobe. Proper snog box this place is."

The Doctor returned with two keys on chains. He gave one to Steve and one to Clara. "As long as you wear this you'll go unnoticed," he assured them.

Steve slipped his in place. "So I could be right in front of Bucky and he wouldn't see me?"

"He'll know you're there," Martha explained. "But the perception filter will tell his brain that he doesn't _want_ to see you." Steve frowned at her words. "I know it's not ideal, but at least you'll get to see him again, yea?"

Steve nodded. "Yea," he agreed, but the sadness in his voice was unmistakable.

Martha gave him a quick kiss in attempts to lift his spirits and she heard Clara whisper "snog box" behind her back.

The Doctor parked the TARDIS in an alley behind the old movie theater in Steve's neighborhood and the four of them set out to look for Bucky. Without knowing exactly which date they had landed upon, it was hard to know exactly where to find him. So they split up. Steve went with the Doctor and Martha stayed with Clara.

The Doctor still had the superphone Martha had given him once upon a time. She could reach him anywhere in the universe with it, so she assumed it would work there in spite of the lack of cellular towers. They set their mobiles to silent and agreed upon a text in case of a sighting. It was quick and more discrete. Advance technology from the future would only cause trouble if it fell into the wrong hands, especially in a time period where Hydra was at its zenith.

"He's a real catch," Clara commented once it was just the two of them. "Seems like a real decent bloke. And you look good together."

"Glad _you_ think so," Martha said without looking at her. Clara followed her eyes to a man on a street corner leering at them. She couldn't know for sure the reason he was staring, but she remembered the stares she had received when she was stranded with the Doctor in 1913. Most of them didn't dare speak the words they were thinking, though a few of them did. It didn't matter though. Their actions spoke volumes. It was simple to read people if you tried hard enough. The eyes were the key. When all else failed, a person's true intentions could be seen in their eyes. You could see love in them. And you could also see hatred.

"Ignore him," Clara whispered.

"Easier said than done sometimes." Martha glanced at her. "Be nice if I could get him to ignore me though."

"So why can't you?" Clara asked. She quickly removed the chain from around her neck and held it out for Martha to take. "You wear it. You need it more than me."

"No," Martha nudged her hand away gently. "Put it back on. You can't afford to be seen."

"Just take it," Clara insisted. "I mean what are the odds that someone who knows Connie will cross our path?"

"Hey Connie!" a male voice called out behind the two of them. Martha and Clara turned to see the one and only Bucky Barnes standing behind them in full military uniform.

"And that's why I never liked maths," Clara muttered. "I'm clearly rubbish at it."

Bucky continued his approach, stopping directly in front of them. He looked just as he had in Steve's sketchbook, young and handsome with an endlessly charming smile. "You're not avoiding me are you?" he asked Clara.

"Me?" Clara replied then cleared her throat and adjusted her accent. Connie was American after all. "Wouldn't dream of it."

"Good." Bucky nodded in approval and glanced at Martha. "Friend of yours?" he asked looking at Clara once more.

Martha and Clara looked at each quickly then back at Bucky. "I…" Martha said. "I'm just…"

"Just my best friend ever," Clara replied and grabbed Martha by the hand.

Martha laughed nervously. "Right. Connie and Martha. Best friends forever."

"Martha?" Bucky questioned.

"I've never told you about Martha?" Clara asked.

Bucky shook his head and looked at Martha again. "I'd think I'd remember. Not many of her kind around the neighborhood," he commented. Martha tensed at his words and she squeezed Clara's hand tighter. "Plenty Irish, but not as many English." Both women exhaled at the same time.

"And with good reason," Clara replied. "She's not from the neighborhood. She's…"

"Her pen pal," Martha supplied.

"Pen pal," Clara repeated with a smile.

"And you suddenly decided to come to New York?" Bucky asked.

"London's not exactly the safest place to be these days," Martha answered.

Bucky nodded. "Hopefully we can put an end to that."

"You will," Martha told him.

"Definitely," Clara added with a nod.

Bucky looked back and forth between the two of them before cracking a smile. "I like her," he told Clara and nodded his head towards Martha. "Maybe you should have brought her along the other night. No offense to Bonnie, but Steve and her didn't really click." He looked at Martha again. "I think he'd like you though."

Martha laughed softly. "Maybe."

"Are you kidding? He'd _love_ her!" Clara insisted with a grin. "And she'd like him too."

"He's a bit on the skinny side, but he's all heart," Bucky told Martha. "Too much heart." He shook his head and smiled. "Kid likes to talk himself into more trouble than he can handle sometimes."

"I can handle skinny," Martha replied. "Heart means a lot more to me."

"Well he's got it in spades."

"We should double sometime," Clara suggested. Martha squeezed her hand. "Or not."

"It'll have to wait until I get back," Bucky said. "I ship out today."

Clara frowned. "You mean…you're being deployed?"

"Yep." Bucky sighed softly. "I was actually making my rounds, saying goodbye and all that. I was starting to think I wouldn't get to see you before I left though."

"Well…here I am," Clara replied awkwardly. "_Connie_. Saying goodbye."

"There you are," Bucky said with a laugh. "It'll probably be awhile before I see you again so let's do this proper like." He took Clara by the hand and pulled her into a kiss. He cradled her in his arms and dipped her backwards slightly.

When he stood her back upright, Clara had a dazed look on her face, but wore a smile nonetheless. "Blimey," she said breathlessly in her natural accent.

Bucky quirked a brow and Martha quickly interjected. "I've been teaching her British slang. Accent and all." She grabbed Clara's hand again and shot her a conspiratorial glance. "Right _Connie_?"

"Right!" Clara said, switching back to an American accent. "Pretty impressive, yea?"

"Very," Bucky said with a slight frown, but shook it off.

"Hey Buck!" an all too familiar voice called out in the distance. All three of them looked towards the sound to see Steve. Not the Steve Martha knew, but the smaller and frailer man he had been before the serum. Despite the differences in his appearance, the sight of him warmed Martha's heart.

Bucky held a hand up requesting a moment before turning back to Martha and Clara. "Sorry to cut things short ladies, but I have places to go and people to see," he told them as he adjusted his hat.

"Of course," Martha said softly. "Good luck."

Bucky smiled at her then turned his attention Clara. "Keep an eye on Steve."

"We will," Clara promised.

Bucky nodded one last time then turned to leave. When he reached Steve, Bucky said something to Steve then both men glanced back in their direction. Clara waved first and Bucky followed suit. Steve awkwardly lifted a hand as well and Martha hesitantly returned the gesture.

Martha squeezed Clara's hand once more, bring her back to attention. "We need to get back to the TARDIS." Along the way, they sandwiched the perception filter between their already joined hands and sent word to the Steve and the Doctor of their encounter with Bucky. The rest was up to them.

Martha retreated to the wardrobe once they were safely inside the TARDIS. She felt a desperate need to be in her own clothes again. She waited for Steve there and he found her sometime later.

"Hey there," he greeted her. The apprehension he had in his voice before was replaced by quiet contentment, but she could tell he was still sad. This was just a temporary reprieve from his pain. The Steve she saw earlier would still have to mourn the loss of Bucky and the one in front of her now would continue to live with it.

"You saw Bucky," Martha guessed with a smile.

"I did." He confirmed with a nod. "I also saw someone else."

"Oh?"

"Yea. I suddenly have memories of a woman named Martha, Connie's pen pal from England," Steve said with a smile. "I just saw her once. A quick glance, but Bucky was sure that I'd like her if I ever met her."

"You should've gone out with her," Martha told him.

"The funny thing is Connie never had a pen pal named Martha," Steve informed her. "You see, I asked her after Bucky left. She had no clue what I was talking about."

"Mysterious."

"Very."

"So what are you going to do now?"

"Ask you out instead."

Martha smiled. "Where will we go?"

"How about the moon?" Steve suggested.

"The moon?"

Steve nodded. "I missed the moon landing while I was in the ice. How about we get the Doctor to take us there for our second date?"

"Last time I was on the moon I nearly died of oxygen deprivation," Martha informed him. "But we could have the Doctor take us back to see it as it happened. I saw it a few times back in 1969. It was amazing."

"You know, I'm starting to think it might be a tall order to impress you."

Martha laughed. "It's really not."

"I stand a chance then?"

Martha nodded. "Better that most." She rose up on her toes to kiss him again.

Steve looped an arm around her waist and returned her kiss. "Back to the museum then?"

"We could. Or you could come home with me," Martha said. "Have that movie date instead."

"Is the Doctor gonna us drop back in Washington?"

"No, if I leave London unannounced my mum might kill me," Martha told him with a laugh. "Besides, I told you The Princess Bride was my favorite film ever. Obviously, I'd have more than one copy."

"Obviously." Steve smirked. "Know a good Indian place nearby? I was promised curry."

"I have one on speed dial."

Steve gave her a quick kiss then pulled away to go change his clothes. "Then it's a date."


End file.
